


Chasing Shadows

by Sheepie



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Blogger!Eggsy, Eggsy is a Little Shit, Handler!Eggsy, Harry is a Little Shit, M/M, Reporter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepie/pseuds/Sheepie
Summary: Eggsy is a crime blogger who's just trying to post the next big story. But someone keeps poaching his stories before he can get them up. Sick of having his thunder stolen, Eggsy decides to look into the mysterious man that always seems to be at the crime scenes when he is.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elletromil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletromil/gifts).



> Self-betaed
> 
> Giveaway fic for elletromil. I tried to keep this as close to the original prompt as possible. The only big change was Eggsy being a blogger instead of an actual journalist. Just kept picturing Freddie Lounds as I read the prompt and really wanted Eggsy in a role like that. Hope you like it!

            The story was all over his homepage. It was his story—or well, the one he’d been investigating. Another plot to bomb Parliament foiled. It was just like last month’s story, where several murders were linked to Earl Rothschild’s son. And two months before that when he started investigating a string of kidnappings from the Estates, his old romping ground.

            He always seemed to be one step behind. Whenever Eggsy was on the cusp of exposing the culprit, someone beat him to it. It wouldn’t matter so much if he worked for a newspaper or magazine, but as a crime blogger, where his success was based on supplying what the other media sources weren’t, it wasn’t good to be the last to report on such a high profile case.

            “Fucking hell,” Eggsy groaned into his morning cup of tea. He set the mug down and scrolled through the news feed, reviewing story after story of how Parliament was saved by the ingenuity of their police officers. Eggsy scoffed. That lot wouldn’t know what a bomb threat looked like if it walked right up to their front door and exploded.

            No, they had nothing to do with this. He’d been following the trail for _weeks_ and the police hadn’t even caught a whiff of what was brewing. There was no way they suddenly—overnight—realized what was right under their noses and stopped it. Eggsy refused to believe it.

            This stunk of that man, that—that— _arsehole_ —who always seemed to be one step ahead of Eggsy.

            Eggsy scowled and scrubbed a hand down his face. _Wot the fuck do I do now?_

He planned on posting the reveal this morning. He wrote the article last night. He was just waiting to edit it in the morning, and then he’d publish it.

            _I can still run it_ , Eggsy decided. The current reports didn’t have everything he did. Eggsy opened the document, picked back up his tea, and started to edit. When he finished, he published the story, then moved onto his normal routine of answering e-mails and comments, before shifting to his next story. He already knew what he was going to investigate: the mysterious man in the bespoke suit.

            Eggsy opened several pictures he had, distant shots of the well-dressed man, who always cropped up wherever Eggsy was. Eggsy took a sip of his cooling tea and mumbled, “I’m going to find y’.”

****

            “Yer stalker is at it again,” Merlin announced as Harry entered his office.

            Harry shot him a baleful look. “He isn’t my stalker.”

            “He’s a clever lad,” Merlin said, ignoring Harry. “Talented, too. He just released a new story about the Parliament bomb threat. There’s more information in this post than ye had in yer report.”

            Merlin turned his monitor so Harry could read the article, which was colorfully titled, _Lord of the Lies_. Harry tamped down the smile that threatened to spread and read over the poignantly written article.

            “It seems yer boy was on the verge of unveiling our bomber when y’ once again usurped him.”

            “I refuse to apologize for doing my job,” Harry said, even as the guilt pooled in his stomach. Silly since he didn’t even know the writer (he listed his name as Eggsy Unwin, but Eggsy had to be a pseudonym), but there it was, the familiar tendrils of remorse for once more stealing Eggsy’s thunder

 For a year now they’d been playing this cat and mouse game. At first Harry had found it annoying, constantly avoiding being detected by him, but at some point, after the third or fourth story they shared, Harry’s disdain shifted into fondness.

“He’s growing bolder,” Merlin pointed out, scrolling through the article. “Some of this information he couldn’t have gotten without actually accessing their records.”

 “What are you suggesting Merlin?”

“That perhaps yer boy is getting tired of being out played. Ye’ll want to keep an eye on him.” Even though Merlin wasn’t smiling, Harry could read the amusement in Merlin’s steely eyes. The bastard was enjoying Harry’s plight.

“You could look less smug about this, you know,” Harry pointed out with a sniff. “And be a little grateful. I did bring back a fully intact bomb for you to tinker with.”

“Aye, and I am so very pleased with it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the great Harry Hart being shaken by a blogger.”

“At least you finally admit I’m great.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Ye’re insufferable.”

“Yet you still love me.”

“Don’t make me change yer next mission to one in Siberia.”

Harry pushed to his feet with a chuckle. “You wouldn’t do that, because that just means more paperwork for you to fill out. Now if that’s all, I’ll be going. I believe I have a few days of reprieve to enjoy.”

Merlin waved him off, already turning his back to Harry. Harry didn’t spare Eggsy a second thought until he was home and in his office, his laptop booted up and a tab open to the blog _Criminal Truth_. Harry took a sip from the glass of scotch he poured himself and browsed through Eggsy’s latest story.

Merlin was right. Eggsy was getting bolder with his investigations. He went from showing up at crime scenes to hacking police records. He was entrenching himself deeper into stories, and Harry feared that eventually Eggsy would end up biting off more than he could chew.

****

            Eggsy should have realized tracking his mysterious competition would be a lot harder than anything he’s ever done. He went back and reviewed all of his old stories, starting with the very first one the well-dressed man had worked on with him. Every lead Eggsy thought he discovered, wound up running dry. The only thing Eggsy was able to find out was that whoever this man was, he wasn’t part of Scotland Yard or MI5.

            He may or may not have learned this by hacking into both divisions’ personnel files.

            Feeling discouraged, and a little frazzled, Eggsy banked his investigation for the time being. He wasn’t giving up, but he also was able to admit chasing shadows wasn’t the most productive use of his time. Especially when he had a blog to run. This was his livelihood after all.

            Eggsy turned his focus onto the recent pandemic of suicides plaguing the Tower Hamlets. While the police report Eggsy accessed made no connection from one suicide to the next, Eggsy saw an invisible line threading together each snuffed out life. Something far more nefarious was going on within the gentrified borough. If Eggsy knew his shadow man—and Eggsy liked to think he was fairly well acquainted with him, even if they’d never actually spoken—than he would be on the case, trying to steal Eggsy’s laurels once again. If Eggsy played his cards right, he’d be able to catch his shadow man and solve the mystery.

****

            “I’m impressed,” Merlin said, his gaze fixated on his computer monitor. “Ye’r boy has made a connection even the police haven’t put together. He’s questioning the recent ration of suicides in the east side, he even managed to connect the deaths of the victims with a new drug that’s entered the market.”

            Harry didn’t correct Merlin when he called Eggsy ‘his boy’. He’d given up trying to sway Merlin from calling him such—it only encouraged him when Harry did protest at the moniker.

            “He better be careful though,” Merlin said, finally turning away from the computer screen to face Harry. “He may put himself in danger, or risk incriminating himself, if he isn’t careful about what he reports. There’s information in his latest article that we just obtained.”

            Harry raised an eyebrow, not sure if he should be concerned with the curious twinkle in Merlin’s eyes. Harry knew that look, it was the same one Merlin got when he discovered an interesting new toy to tinker with.

            “Tabloid stories aren’t exactly creditable sources,” Harry pointed out, even though he made a mental note to review Eggsy’s blog.

            Merlin huffed. “We both know ye don’t see it as a tabloid. The lad has moxy, and he’s good. Ye know, we may want to consider bringing him in. He could be an asset.”

            Harry tipped his head to the side in consideration. The thought had crossed his mind a few times, especially after Eggsy managed to unveil the Piccadilly Butcher just as Harry was turning in his report.

            “Is that what you called me in for?” Harry asked. “I wasn’t aware of a spot opening up.”

            “Not for a Knight, no, but we are still trying to find a handler for ye,” Merlin said, a scowl deepening his expression. “Elena put in her re    quest today to not work with ye again. She marked it under ‘unreconciled differences’ and added a personal note that was, oh what did she say…” Merlin turned to his computer, and after a few keystrokes, added, “He’s a stubborn showboat who refuses to listen to a word I say.”

            “Showboat?”

            “It was one of the nicer things she said.”

            “I listen. I just chose to ignore what she suggested because it was wrong.”

            “Harry she’s there to help ye.”

            “I know that, and I fully respect her position. I hold handlers in the highest regard, you know that, but I prefer working with you.”

            “Ye know I can’t always be there as yer handler. Ye aren’t the only agent out on the field.”

            “But I’m your favorite,” Harry pointed out with a smile.

            Merlin rolled his eyes. “Ye will be the death of me.” He picked up the dossier that had been sitting inconspicuously on his desk and handed it to Harry. “This conversation isn’t over, but ye have work to do. I want ye to investigate the string of suicides. As the lad reported, the deaths started cropping up at the same time as a new drug—Milkdrop—hit the streets. We need to see if the two are connected, and if so put a stop to it.”

            Harry opened the burgundy folder and skimmed the paperwork. “Understood.”

            “I’m sure at some point ye will cross paths with Eggsy. If ye do, remember ye aren’t to make contact with him.”

            “Of course,” Harry said as he stood. “I think I know protocol.”

            Merlin fixed him with a critical look. “Ye do, but ye don’t always follow it. I’m serious Harry, ye are not to speak with him. He’s been poking around enough as it was trying to learn who ye are. If ye don’t plan on bringing him in, then he can’t know about ye.”

            “I will be completely invisible,” Harry promised, frowning when Merlin let out a harsh bark of laughter.

            “Ye? Invisible?” Merlin shook his head.

            “You know if I didn’t know any better, I would think you saw me as some flashy peacock.”

            “Get out, ye birdbrain,” Merlin ordered good-naturedly, waving Harry off.

            Harry left, but only because he wanted to, not because Merlin had ordered him to, and returned to his office to pore over his latest mission.

* * * *

            “Thank y’ again for speaking with me,” Eggsy said, shaking the grandmum’s hand with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He left, knees wobbling as he made his way to the elevator.

He was a bit shaken from her story, emotions frayed and graying. It’d been two weeks since he started his investigation and he’d spoken to almost each of the victim’s next of kin—mothers and grandmothers, girlfriends and boyfriends, even a daughter—and each story sounded alarmingly similar to the others.

            How did the police not realize they had something?

            Most likely it was because the police didn’t care. Eggsy knew what it meant to grow up where no one cared about you. Where those that were supposed to protect you left you to die.

            The Tower Hamlets had one of the largest number of minorities in London. As far as the police were concerned, what was happening was probably a blessing. The very thought left Eggsy sick to his stomach.

            When Eggsy reached the street, he paused to check his phone. He straightened his scarf to protect his face as a frigid breeze whipped down the pavement.

            It didn’t matter how many interviews he made, or what connections he was able to cobble together, he wouldn’t be able to prove what was really going on if he didn’t get some concrete evidence. Eggsy needed to go deeper, needed to find the source of the drug.

            _I’ll review my interviews when I get home, see if there is anything there._ He started a mental check list of tasks he’d need to do once he got back to his flat. Eggsy shot Jamal a text back telling him he couldn’t make it for drinks and pocketed his phone.

            He was just about to start towards the station when Eggy spotted _him_ , his shadow man. Eggsy froze for a split second, overcome by indecision, before he withdrew his phone again and pretended to text. Out of the corner of his eye, Eggsy watched the well-dressed man cross the street. The coat he wore was tailored for his lean body, a deep coal pea coat that complimented the Burberry scarf he had securely wrapped around his neck. A black umbrella was hooked on his arm, even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was cold, sure, but for once the sun was out.

            Eggsy looked past the shadow man to the group of teenagers tracking him a few meters behind. _Fucking idiot is going to get mugged._ Eggsy bristled at the thought.

            The teenagers moved closer, no doubt not paying Eggsy any mind, and started to close in on the man. Eggsy reacted before he could even think about it. He stepped in front of his shadow man and clamped a hand on his shoulder, calling out jovially, “Bruv, wot took y’ so long? I was just about to give y’ another call.”

            The potential muggers deviated from their path when they spotted Eggsy, slipping into the building with their heads ducked down. To Eggsy’s satisfaction, surprise widened the man’s eyes, which Eggsy noted were a lovely honeyed-brown.

            “I’m sorry?” The man said, tone as smooth as whiskey.

            _Oh I could listen to that all day._

“Think y’ could take any longer?” Eggsy continued, waiting until he was sure the muggers wouldn’t come back.

Realization dawned on the man’s face, which he smoothly replaced with a fond smile that made Eggsy’s stomach flip. “Apologies,” The man said. “I hadn’t realized the time.”

Eggsy sniffed and straightened a bit. The man was a few inches taller, making it so Eggsy had to crane his head a bit to look up at him. There were people that had long legs, and then there were people that had legs that went on for days. This man’s legs seemed to go on for years.

“Y’ really shouldn’t be walking around dressed like that,” Eggsy said, gesturing to the man’s threads. Was that a bespoke jacket? “Y’ might as well paint a sign on y’r back that says ‘rob me’.”

Amusement twinkled in the man’s eyes. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

Next time. If he was here, then that meant he was on the case just like Eggsy. The slow curl of desire that had been warming inside Eggsy’s belly immediately turned to ice.

“Y’ know, y’ have a bad habit of sniffing around places y’ don’t belong,” Eggsy said. “Wot are y’? Y’ sure as hell ain’t fuzz, and y’ ain’t MI5. Y’ Six?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” the man said, and Eggsy’s scowl deepened. The man removed his tortoiseshell glasses, tucking them into his pocket. “I’m a tailor, if that’s what you’re inquiring. I was just visiting a friend.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Eggsy said. “Y’ve been stealing my stories for a year now. Least y’ can do is tell me y’r name.”

            Eggsy grit his teeth when the man’s smile widened—fucking hell, it should be illegal how devastatingly handsome he was—and the amusement brightened in his eyes, which somehow became even more gorgeous with the glasses removed. This bloke had to be twice Eggsy’s age, but damn if he wouldn’t jump him.

            “Harry,” the man—Harry—supplied. “My name is Harry Hart.”

            “Well Harry, I don’t know much about tailors, but I know y’ ain’t one.”

            “And what may I call you?”

            Eggsy considered lying, giving him an alias, but ended up offering his hand and saying, “Eggsy.”

            “Well Eggsy,” Harry said, accepting Eggsy’s hand. A flush spread across Eggsy’s cheeks when Harry leaned down and brushed his lips across Eggsy’s knuckles. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

            Eggsy gaped at him, unable to reconnect his brain as Harry slipped into a taxi that drew to a stop beside them. Eggsy watched him go, at the last minute scrambling for his phone and snapping a picture of the taxi’s license plate.

            The skin where Harry’s lips had touched tingled. Eggsy lifted his hand to inspect his knuckles, his heart fluttering. He put his phone away and shoved both hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, muttering, “Got’cha.”

****

            “Harry, get down here _now_ ,” Merlin ordered over the comm link.

Harry would have chastised Merlin for the command, but the urgency in his tone set his nerves on edge. Harry placed his pen down, shoving aside the reports he’d been poring over, and said, “On my way.”

He arrived at Merlin’s office in record time, the tension between his shoulders only tightening when Merlin turned his furious glare on him. Harry had seen Merlin in many states of distress and agitation—it came with the territory of being quartermaster—but nothing like this. His panic was nearly palpable, and Harry was sure if Merlin had any hair left, he’d have been pulling it out by the fistfuls.

“What did ye do?” Merlin demanded.

“I beg your pardon?”

“When ye removed yer glasses, what did ye tell the boy?”

“Are you insinuating that I betrayed Kingsman?” Harry said, unable to keep the acidity from his voice. He’d been with Kingsman for thirty years, had known Merlin for almost that length of time. While they had shared their differences, and seen many fights, not once had Merlin ever accused him of such a crime.

“No, what I’m telling ye is that whatever ye said, it gave him the keys to our front door,” Merlin snapped. He slammed his hands down onto his desk, rattling a cup holding pens and pencils. “Now _what_ did ye say?”

“I gave him my name,” Harry said, “Something I’ve done a dozen times before. There isn’t a trace of information on me Merlin, it was erased decades ago. There’s no way he could connect Harry Hart to Kingsman.”

“Well he did,” Merlin said. He spun his monitor around, to show the black screen and distress alert that flashed. “He managed to infiltrate our system not even an hour ago. I personally built it, Harry. _No one_ can access it without my approval, especially anyone that isn’t Kingsman.”

Harry raised both his eyebrows. “How could he… with just my name?”

“It only takes a single loose thread to unravel the entire tapestry,” Merlin said, the fight gone from his voice. He slumped into his seat, running a hand down the dome of his scalp and over his face. “He’s good. Very good.”

“What did he find? Surely he was looking for something.”

“Aye, he was. Luckily it wasn’t an attack, he was just snooping. He accessed yer personnel and case files. Seems ye were the only thing of interest to him.”

Harry was flattered. All this effort, just to uncover who he was.

“Ye can wipe that smug look off yer face.” Merlin fixed Harry with a dour glare. “If ye had listened to orders none of this would have happened. No I have to spend my day doing a fucking security sweep and rebooting everything. Do ye know how much work this gave me?”

“Terribly sorry, old friend.”

“No ye aren’t, ye’re proud, ye bastard.”

“Well, as you said, he’s very good. In the last twenty years we were hacked once, and that was before you rebuilt the entire system. Seems our boy has quite the gamut of talents.”

“Aye, he does. Are ye sure ye don’t want to bring him on?”

Eggsy would certainly fit into Kingsman. He had the skills, and he definitely had the spark. Harry hadn’t thought Eggsy would confront him when he was going to speak with one of the victim’s grandmother. Harry had known he was being followed by some local hoodlums, but he hadn’t been too concerned. Then Eggsy had swooped in and chased them away with his quick wit.

“There is merit to the idea,” Harry confessed. What few reservations he had were weakening as he realized Eggsy wasn’t just some run-of-the-mill reporter. He paused. “Wait, you said he pulled up my case file? Including the one I’m working on now?”

“Aye.”

“Shit,” Harry hissed. “If he pulled it up, that mean has the contact information for Daniel Aldrich.”

And Eggsy would seek the drug dealer out. The idea of Eggsy being anywhere near that pathetic excuse of a human made Harry’s veins run cold. Eggsy didn’t realize what kind of danger he was walking into.

“When is yer meeting?”

“Next week.”

“Do ye think the lad will try to do something sooner.”

Harry didn’t even have to consider the possibility. “Yes.”

“I’ll put a rush on the security sweep. Once we’re back up I’ll see if I can locate him.”

Harry only prayed they wouldn’t be too late.

****

Eggsy stopped at the street corner, rucking up the collar of his jacket to shield himself from the chilling wind spraying down his neck, and glanced at the building posing as the drug ring’s hideout. The slosh of choppy water hitting the side of the docks was punctuated by the occasional bellow of a ship.

            It made sense that the drug ring was working down at the West Indian Docks. During the day it was a legitimate business, bringing shipments in and out with other goods, while in the evening they trafficked a toxic cocktail of downers out into the streets.

            Eggsy’s blood boiled. The story was more than regaining his fame. It was righting a wrong. No one batted their eyes at the people from the hamlets, just like no one cared about anyone from the council estates. Eggsy had spent most of his life crossing streets strewn with strung out druggies. The mayor talked about cleaning the streets, talked about the war on drugs, but they were the ones feeding it. Just like they were feeding this new ring.

            Eggsy gathered enough intel to bring the whole thing down, but he just needed a little more physical evidence. Then he could connect Mayor Biggs with the cartel peddling Milkdrop.

            He palmed his pocket to make sure he had his camera and voice recorder, then started down the street towards the back entrance. A dark figure stepped in front of his path, blocking his way to the alley.

            “Oy, bruv, I’m walking,” Eggsy said, shrugging up his shoulders to make himself look bigger.

            “I realize that,” A smooth voice drawled, sending a rush of shivers down Eggsy’s spine. “And I also realize you’re about to make a very dangerous, and very _stupid_ , mistake.”

            Eggsy clenched his teeth. “Move,” he ordered.

            “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that Eggsy,” Harry said. “And I’m terribly sorry about this.”

            “Wot are y—” Something sharp stuck his neck, like a mosquito bite, and his vision blurred into a swirl of black. The last thing he saw before he succumbed was Harry’s apologetic eyes.

_Motherfucker._

****

            Eggsy woke with a groan. He pressed his hand into a cushion, the soft fibers luxurious against his fingertips, and blinked his eyes open. It took him a moment to piece together where he was, his mind blanketed over by fog. When his vision cleared and realization set in, Eggsy snapped up with a curse. A wave of nausea swept through him at the abrupt movement.

            “Easy,” Harry warned, coming around into Eggsy’s line of sight. He carried a glass of water and what looked like some paracetamol.

            “Y’ drugged me,” Eggsy accused, scooting up and pressing his back against the armrest of the couch. “Y’ fucking bastard. Why the _fuck_ did y’ drug me?”

            Harry offered the pills and water, but when Eggsy refused with a sharp jerk of his head that sent another wave of nausea spilling through his stomach, he set them down on the coffee table. “It was the only way I could get you out of there without hurting you.”

            “Have y’ tried asking a person?” Eggsy glared at him. His throat was parched and the water looked so good, but after what Harry just pulled, Eggsy wasn’t trusting anything Harry gave him.

            “I won’t drug you again,” Harry promised, as if reading Eggsy thoughts.

            “Yeah, I fucking doubt that y’ arsewipe.”

            Harry rolled his eyes, but didn’t push Eggsy to drink the water. He took a seat on the couch—the opposite side—and turned to face Eggsy. “You were about to do something very dangerous, Eggsy, and I had to stop you before you got yourself killed. Do you realize what would have happened when they discovered you? Those men aren’t to be toyed with.”

            “I think I can handle myself, bruv,” Eggsy said. He knew what he was doing. He wasn’t stupid. If anything did happen to him, his friend Jamal would release everything Eggsy had on the story to the media.

            “I don’t doubt your capabilities,” Harry said, fondness seeping into the words. It warmed through Eggsy, relaxing some of the anxiety that built in his stomach. He scrunched his face, scowling. No, he wouldn’t be assuaged by Harry’s syrupy timber. The bastard _drugged_ him.

            “I’m not going to stop,” Eggsy warned, “As soon as I’m out of here, I’m going right back there. The truth needs to be known, and I won’t let y’ or any other posh tosser try to hide it. Y’ may think that we’re expendable, just cannon fodder for y’r agendas, but we’re people, _they’re_ people, real flesh and blood, and they don’t deserve this.”

            Harry studied him, not saying anything for a long time, and Eggsy shifted in his seat. The intensity of Harry’s gaze left him breathless, and he was scrambling to fill his lungs with air. He didn’t look away, though. He meant every word. Once he got out of here—and he would—he was going right back to the docks.

            “I believe you,” Harry said, “And I also think you’re correct. But what you don’t realize is that you don’t matter.”

            “The fuck y’ say?” Eggsy shouted, shooting to his feet. He wobbled for a moment, head spinning at the rush, before steadying himself with an outstretched hand. He turned his glare on Harry. “Y’ want to fucking go granddad?”

            Amusement flashed across Harry’s eyes before he tamped it down. “You’re from the council estates, despite exemplary grades, you dropped out of school. You quit gymnastics, even though you had Olympic potential. And you couldn’t even complete basic training with the Marines. Tell me why should anyone listen to you? As far as society sees it, you’re a failure and a nobody.”

            Having all his failures listed like that felt like one punch after the next. He scrambled to contain his emotions, refusing to let the hurt show. “Fuck y’ and y’r ivory towers. Y’ think it’s easy growing up the estates? I did wot I had to in order to survive, in order to keep my family alive.”

            He wouldn’t apologize. He wouldn’t.

            “I don’t doubt the difficulties you faced,” Harry said, his own gaze never wavering. “But despite what I may see—a boy with so much potential it’s nearly blinding—the rest of the world will see a nobody. Your voice to them doesn’t matter. And those with power will see it snuffed out before you even have the chance to scream.”

            Eggsy blinked, nearly missing the comment about his potential. He flushed and finally glanced away. “Wot do y’ suggest then? I just stand here and let more people die? Fuck that shit.”

            “I would never suggest such a thing. You’re right that this has to end, and as you know, I’ve been working on stopping it as well.”

            Eggsy rubbed the back of his neck. He knew hacking into Kingsman’s mainframe had been risky. He just didn’t think Harry would make the connection _that_ fast.

            “Yeah, sorry about that. But wasn’t like y’ didn’t have it coming.”

            Harry chuckled. Oh Eggsy liked that sound. It was a throaty laugh that sent whispers down Eggsy’s spine, dancing over nerve endings with an electrical prickle.

            “I want to make you an offer Eggsy, one I think we’ll both be satisfied with,” Harry said.

            Eggsy met his stare, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah, wot’s that?”

            “I want to offer you a job at Kingsman as my personal handler. Together we can make a difference, we can change the world— _you_ can change the world.”

            Eggsy searched Harry’s face, hunting for any sign of betrayal, any dishonesty that may filter through the cracks of his mask. When he found none, Eggsy swallowed and gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Yeah… yeah, okay, why not?”

****

            Kingsman brought an end to the drug cartel and any traces of the fledgling drug Milkdrop was wiped from the streets. Eggsy joined Kingsman, and after two months of rigorous training under the terrifying tutelage of Merlin, Eggsy became a handler. Eggsy nearly pissed himself the first time he met the quartermaster. Merlin had fixed a glare on him, and Eggsy had been sure he was buried six feet underground.

“So this is the little shit that managed to get past my firewall,” Merlin had said, and the slow grin that spread across his face had been the equivalent of watching the dirt be thrown into his grave. “We’ll be having words, lad.”

Words ended up being a demonstration of how Eggsy managed to perform such a feat. Eggsy wouldn’t admit it, but he preened at both Merlin and Harry’s praise when he showed them his hacking skills. What could he say? He’d always been good with computers and how else was he supposed to get by? It was either drug running, selling himself on the streets, or finding another way to pay for things—especially college.

When Eggsy started handling, he hadn’t been sure what to expect, especially when he hadn’t had a chance to work with Harry yet. But to his surprise, they worked beautifully together. Even if Harry was a little shit. But Eggsy gave as good as he got, and when Harry didn’t listen, Eggsy made sure he paid. Harry discovered after the third time of a door failing to open for him, Eggsy wouldn’t be bullied like all of his previous handlers.

A month into working together they started a tradition of going for drinks upon Harry’s return, and Eggsy always made Harry buy if he’d been exceptionally shitty during the mission.

Eggsy found himself longing for those moments he shared with Harry. He enjoyed the light banter they exchanged. Harry was sharp and witty and made Eggsy laugh like no one else ever had. When Eggsy was with him, that familiar warmth bloomed in his chest. He was tied to Harry the same way the ocean was tied to the moon.

Beers turned into dinners turned into quiet nights in, where Eggsy would come over to Harry’s after a long mission and they’d watch a movie, nestled on the couch together, shoulders touching. Eggsy discovered Harry’s fondness for entomology and his terrible habit of never being able to throw anything away. Eggsy told him about his mum and Daisy, and how Dean had terrorized him throughout his childhood, until Eggsy finally took matters to his own hands and used his hacking skills to slap charges against his stepfather. He told Harry how the only reason he went into journalism was because he wanted to do something about people like Dean. Not just become another cop who got tied down by red tape, but actually become a voice, someone who could speak for those who never had the chance.

Harry had cupped his cheek then and looked at him so endearingly, with such intensity, that it was nearly blinding. “You have, my darling boy.”

Eggsy didn’t comment on the endearment, even though it had sent a rush of desire through him. He coveted it. Coveted each one Harry bestowed upon him, just as Eggsy had done with every smile, every glance. He was a dragon hording Harry’s attention.

Before Eggsy knew it, Harry became an integral part of his life. Eggsy counted the moments they weren’t together with bated breath.

A year passed. Tired of waiting, tired of _hoping_ Harry would finally do something, Eggsy decided to take matters into his own hands.

He knocked on Harry’s door. Eggsy almost turned around. Almost said ‘fuck it’ and went back to his apartment. But then he thought about every smile, every laugh, every softly whispered ‘my dear boy’, and steeled his nerves. He could do this.

Harry opened the door, surprise lighting his eyes. “Eggsy, I wasn’t expecting you. Please, come in.”

Eggsy stepped into Harry’s warm foyer, the chill that had been seeping into his bones thawing. Harry shut the door behind him, closing out the wind that had begun to howl, and asked, “What do I owe the pleasure? I was just getting ready to fix dinner if you’d like to join me.”

Eggsy didn’t turn to face him, not yet. He drew in a deep breath, repeating in his head, _y’ can do this._

“Eggsy? Is everything alright my dear boy?”

Eggsy turned to look at Harry, and before his nerves could get the best of him, he blurted out, “Why haven’t y’ kissed me yet?”

“What?” Harry asked, eyes wide.

Eggsy swallowed thickly, not deterred. “We’ve been flirting for… for… wot, two years? Before I even joined Kingsman. So are y’ going to kiss me or not?”

Harry searched his face, his shock softening into fond amusement. He smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling, and he took a step towards Eggsy. Eggsy’s heart thundered. “I’m sorry darling, how terrible of me to make you wait.”

“Damn straight it is,” Eggsy agreed with a huff.

Harry cupped his jaw. The skin beneath Harry’s fingertips prickled. “I shall endeavor to do better from now on.”

Eggsy drew in a shuddering breath, meeting Harry’s gaze. In the split second before he felt the press of Harry’s lips, Eggsy found happiness. He set his hands on Harry’s shoulders, moving one to cup the back of his neck. Harry leaned down, and without another word, kissed him.


End file.
